Page 38 of Accidental Vegas Vows

The elevator dinged for his floor and we stepped out, rounding the long corridor. The smaller version of Damien ran ahead, his footsteps heavy on the tile floor, his eyes scanning the names on each private office. He stopped immediately in front of his dad’s, looking up at the plastered letters that spelled Damien M. Blackwood, Owner and CEO with wide, wondrous eyes.

Damien opened the door for him and the little one bolted in.

I grabbed his wrist before he could follow, checking down the hall for any prying eyes. It was completely empty this early — no one who had a private office up here worked on any specific schedule.

“I’m sorry,” he offered again.

“Stop apologizing. It’s okay.” I took a deep breath and gave myself a moment to catch up — the kid was dropped off early. Damien was panicking. This was fine, I could help, I could do the right thing. I could be his saving grace for now. “You look like a mess, Damien.”

He looked down at himself, and before he could start fidgeting with the mismatched buttons, I let myself reach out to him. I didn’t think about it, didn’t question it, just helped. My fingers brushed against the bare skin of his chest as I unbuttoned and rebutted the ones that were slotted in the wrong holes. I unfastened and retied his tie. I fixed his stupid little pocket square. “It’s been a long morning,” he offered, and I shook my head.

“It’s fine. You said he was dropped off early?”

“She showed up at six,” he said quietly, low enough that his son couldn’t hear from where he climbed across the wingback chairs inside the office. “She wasn’t supposed to come until next Saturday, Liv. I have nothing. Nothing.”

“Why did she do that?” I asked. Auto-pilot was taking over, and instinctually, I reached up, fiddling with his hair. He didn’t even blink at it.

“I don’t know. I think she’s upset that her sister didn’t give her custody of him. She called my lawyer to change the date last night, and Ethan called me, but I missed it.” He took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. “I nearly had a fucking heart attack when I opened the door. I wasn’t ready. I’m not ready.”

“You’re doing great,” I said, and surprisingly even to myself, I meant it. “I’m sorry she caught you off guard like that.”

“She wants custody,” he breathed. “She’s going to file for it.”

“Okay, Damien, you’ve got to calm down,” I urged, placing my hands on either side of his suit jacket. “I don’t mean to belittle that because that is horrifying and I’m so sorry, but you’ve got a meeting. Have you reviewed anything for it?”

“No,” he croaked. “I’m screwed.”

I looked up at him. He looked better than he did before I’d fixed him — a lot better. But not nearly his normal, well-groomed, calm self. It was harrowing seeing him like this, seeing him panicked and stressed and overwhelmed to the point of almost breaking.

It made my chest ache for him, made me want to do what I could to fix it.

“You’re not screwed,” I said. “I’ve got him, okay? I’ll watch him for however long you need, just make sure my manager knows that you’ve asked me to do, uh, something, I guess. I’ll handle this so you can handle that. You’ve got, what, fifteen minutes? Ten? Use that to go over what you need to go over.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Is there anything I need to know?”

He glanced into his office nervously, checking up on the little guy. “He’s five. His name is Noah, if you forgot. He’s pretty calm as far as I can tell, but I’ve only known him for… fuck, three hours? He might talk about his mom being dead but he seems very unperturbed by the whole thing, but the internet says that can flip-flop, so be careful with that. Otherwise… you know about as much as I do.”

I nodded. “Five. Noah. Calm. Dead mom. Got it.”

He cracked a grin, and finally, he looked a little more normal. “I owe you, princess.”

“You do.”

In a fleeting second of what was likely the leftover adrenaline fueling him, he took my face in his hands, pressing his lips to the center of my forehead. I froze. “Thank you,” he said.

Leaving me there, stuck in position with far too many thoughts racing through my mind, he stuck his head into his office and called out a quick goodbye to Noah before disappearing down the hall.

————

Most of my experience with children came from my brief stint of babysitting when I turned twelve, and my experience being a child, so I didn’t have much to go on. But going for ice cream seemed like the best idea, and meant I wouldn’t need to worry about someone coming into Damien’s office unannounced and asking questions.

I hadn’t been expecting Noah's never-ending stream of questions, though.

“How old are you?” he asked, his fist gripping the bottom of his ice cream cone, liquid sugar dripping over his fingers.

“Twenty-four.”

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